8 (Lost)
1541 Words
Scarlet hadn’t told anyone else about her pregnancy.
Right after the dinner with Victor, she found herself in a haze. For a moment, she questioned whether she had made the right decision.
After all, she didn’t really know Victor — not truly. And men lied all the time. At least, that’s what life had taught her.
What if he changed his mind?
It was clear he hadn’t wanted her to keep the baby, but he hadn’t pressured her either. That’s what she believed, at least.
He’d offered to take responsibility — his share, as he put it — and he was insanely rich. That alone would be a huge help.
Still, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She wished she could talk to someone — another girl like her — someone who would understand.
But who?
Her relationship with Mia wasn’t that deep. Not deep enough to share something this heavy.
Her mother? No. Her mother would just judge her, maybe even disown her.
Tears welled in her eyes as the truth hit her: the only person she truly wanted by her side was Ashley.
And Ashley... had never felt the same.
Out of both André’s and Ashley’s betrayals, it was Ashley’s that broke her the most.
The one she knew she’d never be able to get over.
Scarlet found herself scrolling through her phone, her fingers trembling slightly until she reached Ashley’s name—blocked.
She stared at the screen for a long moment. The nostalgia was a slow ache, whispering
Maybe she’d still care, after all this is pregnancy not a stupid boy.
She unblocked the account.
Her heart barely had time to brace itself before the first post loaded.
But, the first post on Ashley's account was enough to make her rethink..
It was a picture of Ashley and André, kissing, captioned with the phrase (For your love, I was ready to cut off people that I once thought I cared about)
Scarlet’s breath caught.
The post was from three days ago. The comments flooded in beneath it— smiling emojis, congrats, and praising Ashley at Scarlet's expense
(you are much prettier tbh)
(congratulations! he looks better with you)
(Ashley, I'm happy for you, sad for the other woman lol)
Ashley replied to each comment with hearts and smiley faces—no hesitation, no remorse.
Not caring at all about the fact that the comments were a shade to her former friend, the whole post was a shade at this point.
Scarlet, surprisingly didn't cry, didn't drop one more tear, Instead, her lips curled into something bitter. Then... nothing. Just quiet disappointment.
She blocked Ashley again.
muttered to herself softly :"Well, I guess that's what they meant when they say, shattered what was left of my heart"
She took a deep breath and turned off the lights, the room fell silent.
what happened that night was just a brutal reminder from life, that she's alone in this.
The next day, she received a message from Victor.
We’re seeing the doctor today.
He sent her the time and location.
She wore a baby blue midi dress that flowed just below her knees, and waited patiently on the street for his driver to pick her up.
He was ten minutes late now, and his phone was off.
Just as she started to get anxious, she recognized the sleek black Mercedes approaching.
To her surprise, it wasn’t the driver behind the wheel — it was Victor himself.
He pulled over and paused for a second, his eyes scanning her. Then, without a word, he stepped out and opened the door for her.
“Thanks for waiting,” he said. “I had a sudden issue that couldn’t wait.”
His cheeks were slightly flushed from the sun, and a thin layer of sweat clung to his forehead.
Something about the sight made her mind flash back to that night — and suddenly, she felt her cheeks grow warm.
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, slipping into the car. “I’m sure it was something important at work.”
But Victor’s expression shifted. He shook his head.
“No, not work. My ex,” he sighed. “She doesn’t seem capable of letting a day pass without trying to piss me off.”
He closed her door, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.
“You don’t have to worry about her,” he added as he started the engine.
“Just focus on our baby. And on your health.”
Scarlet wasn’t sure why the words our baby made her heart flutter — but they did.
Then, after a moment of silence, she decided to ask,
"What if the doctor judges me?"
She caught a slight smirk forming on Victor's lips.
“Don’t worry,” he said casually. “If anyone’s getting judged, it’ll be me. I’m the rich, middle-aged guy... the doctor will probably assume I tricked you or something.”
Of course he’d be nonchalant about it. That’s exactly what Scarlet expected.
But then he added quickly, with a half-serious tone,
“Oh, and make sure to let the doctor know you’re legal. The last thing I need is getting arrested for child abuse.”
“I’m not a child!” she shot back instantly.
He glanced at her with a teasing grin.
“Honey, I’m forty-six. Anything under thirty feels like an underage to me.”
As they arrived at the private clinic he had booked, she paused. This didn’t feel like a medical center. It felt... expensive.
The scent of fresh white roses lingered in the air, blending with something softer—maybe vanilla or cashmere wood.
Instead of the usual plastic chairs and buzzing fluorescent lights, there were velvet armchairs in muted champagne tones, and warm golden lighting that bathed the room in a soft, flattering glow.
Marble floors stretched beneath her feet, cool and spotless, and a grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling, glimmering like a piece of jewelry.
Even the receptionist didn’t look like she belonged in a clinic—dressed in a fitted cream suit, she offered a gentle nod, her tone low and composed, almost like a hostess at a luxury hotel.
There were no noisy patients, no rushed nurses. Everything felt... still. Private. Controlled.
A subtle instrumental track played in the background—classical, maybe French piano.
He noticed how impressed she was, and a subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Let me be the older, wiser guy for a second,” he said smoothly.
“Never give a man the satisfaction of thinking he impressed you too fast. Make him earn it — it keeps the right ones close and the wrong ones cautious.”
She was caught off guard by his sudden advice.
For a split second, her heart skipped a beat — not because of the words themselves, but because of the way he said them: calm, smooth, like he’d been watching her more closely than she realized.
She blinked once, then quickly pulled herself together.
“Seriously?” she scoffed, lifting an eyebrow. “What’s with the sudden dating tips? We’re in a clinic, not a dating app.”
He chuckled, clearly amused by her sass, and that smug little smirk spread across his face as they walked toward the chairs lining the waiting area.
“Hey,” he said, casually slipping his hands into his pockets, “That’s what I get for being concerned about you?”
She dropped onto the seat next to him and crossed her arms, still wearing a cheeky smile.
“Well, Mr. Concerned,” she replied playfully, “Thanks for the unsolicited advice. But it’s useless.”
She leaned back slightly. “Because I don’t plan on dating men again.”
That made him turn his head to look at her, one brow rising.
“You're becoming lesbian or nun? pick one.” he said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching.
She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. God, that smirk — how could someone so annoying be that good-looking? It should be illegal.
She wanted to wipe the grin off his face, maybe even slap him for being so cocky…
But instead, her gaze betrayed her, drifting for a moment — too long — over the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shirt hugged his frame, the relaxed confidence in his posture.
Damn it.
And worse — a fleeting thought flashed through her mind.
What if the baby got his looks? Those eyes. That mouth.
She shook the thought off like a fly.
“I’m just a woman,” she finally said, flipping her hair off her shoulder with fake indifference, “who’s officially tired of men’s nonsense.”
He laughed low under his breath, a sound she hated that she liked.
“Smart choice,” he said. “But just so you know, not all men are nonsense.”
“Oh really?” she said with a mock-innocent tone, tilting her head. “Is that coming from the voice of experience or guilt?”
He grinned wider, unbothered. “Neither, it's just common sense, not to generalize any trait to an entire gender."
- Writer
